"Training, eh? I''d love to learn from someone who gave Solari a run for his money," Torglel said, laughing loud and slapping me on the back, his hand landing like a hammer blow. The forest air still buzzed around us, thick with that electric hum I couldn''t shake.
"Thuumar, your name is Laboritus, right?" the field mouse asked, her tiny voice cutting through Torglel''s echo.
"I am—yes. And your name might be?" Laboritus replied, his deep tone steady, eyes narrowing slightly as he sized her up.
"I''m Seluvia. I noticed your quiver is empty," she said, her gaze flicking to the leather slung over his shoulder.
"It is—I used all my arrows fighting off some monstrosities before we got here," he replied, a faint edge of pride in his words, though his hand brushed the empty quiver with a grimace.
"What if you never had to run out again?" she asked, tilting her head, a spark of mischief in her small eyes.
"Don''t be preposterous—who''s ever heard of an infinite arrow quiver?" he responded haughtily, crossing his arms, his towering frame casting a shadow over her.
"My magic can enchant your quiver to endlessly reproduce any arrow you put inside it," Seluvia explained, unfazed, her voice calm and sure.
A wave of shock and disbelief rippled across everyone''s face—mine included. I wondered if such a thing could even be real. But then I remembered her time spell, bending days into years, and doubted myself. Of course it was possible—she''d already twisted the impossible once today.
Laboritus hesitated, then laid his quiver on the ground before her, the leather thudding softly against the moss. Seluvia placed her tiny hands over it and began chanting, words spilling out in a tongue I couldn''t grasp—harsh, guttural, ancient. A red glow flared around the quiver, pulsing like a heartbeat. That familiar time magic prickled my skin, and then a voice hissed in my mind: "She''s chanting in Infernal—the language of demons." The forest vanished—I was back in that suffocating room, staring at him, my evil self, his red eyes glinting like blood-soaked rubies.
"How do you know about the language of demons?" I asked, suspicion coiling tight in my chest.
"Same reason—the Drydalis have red eyes and dark skin," he replied, his grin sharp, mocking, as if I should''ve known.
Before I could dig deeper, reality snapped back, the forest rushing in like a flood. "Solari, are you okay?" Alythiel asked, her voice laced with concern, her hand warm on my shoulder, grounding me.
"Yeah, I''m fine," I answered hesitantly, blinking as the red glow faded, Seluvia''s chant falling silent. My head spun, that whisper still echoing.
Laboritus picked up his quiver, turning it over in his hands. "Now I just need to get some arrows—preferably ones of different types," he said, voice practical but curious.
"Let''s go to the hidden city in this forest. No outsider has ever seen it until now," Petrus announced, his staff tapping the ground with authority.
Petrus and Seluvia led us through the forest, the canopy thickening overhead, leaves rustling like whispers. We reached a city that stole my breath—layers of buildings soared into the trees, woven into the branches, connected by bridges of vine and wood. Woodland creatures—badgers, squirrels, foxes, mice, raccoons—walked upright, bustling with purpose. It was a sight I''ll carry ''til I die, vivid and strange, alive with a magic I couldn''t fathom.
"An ancient magic was cast over this forest, imbuing everything with power and vitality. The creatures that dwelled here were transformed into what you see now. We were granted immortality and knowledge of all the world''s magic. We chose the name Magicae, and this is our Hollow. Welcome to Magicae Hollow," Petrus said as we ascended into the town, his voice swelling with pride.
"Laboritus, Alythiel—if you both follow me, I''ll take you to our finest merchants so you can restock your gear," Seluvia instructed, scampering off with them in tow.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
"Solari, Torglel—you''re with me," Petrus said, guiding us onward, his robes rustling. "I''ll show you the field where our training will begin."
"Hey, Petrus—did you write the note that was found on me when I was a baby?" I asked, the question clawing its way out.
He stopped, turning to face me, his eyes sharp beneath his hood. "Yes, that was my doing. I wanted to help you when the time came."
"So you always intended to train me?" I pressed, curiosity burning hotter.
"Yes—because your power is greater than that of any Drydalis ever. It even surpasses your father''s," he replied, voice low, heavy.
My eyes widened, sweat beading on my skin, cold despite the forest''s warmth. "You know who my father is?" I whispered, breath catching in my throat.
"Aye, lad, I do. He came to the forest seeking power, and I turned him away. When he refused to leave, we fought. I should have ended his life then, had I known the evil atrocities he would later commit," he confessed, regret shadowing his words.
"How much do you know about the Drydalis—and about me, specifically?" I asked, desperation clawing at me, answers I''d chased my whole life dangling close.
"Kid, I''m as old as time itself. We Magicae have networks everywhere; there''s not much we don''t hear about from the outside world. What do you want to know first?" he asked, cocking his head, staff resting against the earth.
"Tell me about the Drydalis," I said, voice steady despite the storm inside.
"The Drydalis are descended from elves, much like the Falstarians. However, while the Falstarians possess celestial blood, the Drydalis carry demonic blood—evidenced by their red eyes and dark skin. They excel in elemental magic, particularly lightning," he explained, his tone measured, like a teacher reciting lore.
"And what of my father? Who is he?" I asked, bracing myself.
"Your father is Zolphan Dormier, the leader of Nox Arcanus," he revealed.
The revelation hit me like a troll''s club—blunt, shattering. My father was the enemy. My life cracked open in that moment, jagged and raw.
"Why is he doing all this?" I asked in despair, voice breaking.
"He''s been trying to unlock the true power of the Drydalis. He believes their demonic heritage runs deeper than mere dark skin and red eyes. He''s even experimented on his own people to unearth the secrets of their demonic power," he explained, his words cold, cutting.
"Torglel, do you remember those creatures you and Laboritus fought before you both arrived?" he asked, turning to my friend.
"Aye, they looked like feral little buggers," Torglel replied, scratching his beard, eyes narrowing.
"Those creatures were the result of Zolphan''s experiments to achieve power. Instead of growing stronger, his methods reverted them to a twisted, feral state," he continued, voice grim.
I could hardly believe it—yearning for my past had led me here, and now I regretted it, a bitter knot twisting my gut.
"How did I end up with the dwarves?" I asked, grasping for some shred of comfort.
"Your father intended to raise you as the first heir to true Drydalis power. I couldn''t allow such an evil man to raise a child, so I stole you away and entrusted you to the dwarves—somewhere I knew Zolphan could never reach you," he explained, his gaze softening briefly.
I needed a moment; it was too much. The weight crushed me, chest tight, breath shallow. I slumped to the ground, burying my head in my hands. No, no, no... this can''t be real. This can''t be the truth. So this is what they meant when they said, be careful what you wish for.
I rocked back and forth, mind spiraling—then the world shifted. My mind plunged into that familiar void again, him leering at me, my evil self, wings flexing like a predator''s threat.
"Oh, it''s real," he sneered, voice dripping mockery. "And deep down, you''ve always known it."
His laughter scraped my ears, sharp as steel on stone.
"Shut up!" I shouted—but the words weren''t Common. They were guttural, alien, yet they flowed like I''d always known them. My eyes widened in horror.
How did I speak that?
His grin stretched, red eyes gleaming with cruel delight. "Ah... you''re finally waking up. You see, this is who you really are. Superior. Stronger than the other Drydalis. And soon, you''ll understand just how much—"
"Solari! Solari!"
A voice—urgent, real—yanked me back. I gasped, vision clearing. Alythiel knelt before me, gripping my shoulders, her moonstone eyes shadowed with worry.
"Alythiel... when did you get here?" My voice rasped, throat dry, head spinning.
She exchanged a look with Torglel and Laboritus, concern etched deep. "I just arrived to find you slumped on the ground, a blank look in your eyes. You were muttering something—something I couldn''t understand."
Her worry hit me hard, but that language—Infernal?—burned in my mind. I swallowed, heart pounding.
What was happening to me?
"How has his power remained unchecked all this time?" I asked, curiosity and dread tangling with anger.
"He went underground, and not even Magicae''s vast network can locate him. There''s no telling where he is now," Petrus replied, voice heavy with frustration.
Torglel walked over, grabbing my arm and hauling me up with a grunt, his strength effortless. Alythiel stayed close, her presence steady, though her eyes never left me.
"You know," Torglel said with a huge, heartfelt grin, clapping me on the back hard enough to jolt my ribs, "I thought I had family issues—but yours makes me feel downright normal."
His deep, bellowing laugh echoed through the clearing, warm and alive, like sunlight through storm clouds—cutting through the weight. It was the kind of sound that pulled you back from the edge, if only for a breath. These moments with Torglel—I''d come to cherish them, raw and real.
I chuckled nervously, rubbing my neck, still rattled. "You''re not wrong. I always thought your father issues—being the rebellious seventh son and all—were a mess. But I think I''ve got you beat."
Torglel snorted, grinning wider. "Aye, you got me there, brother. But don''t go getting all cocky just ''cause you won this one."